I Thought I Could Do It
by Mrowrkat98
Summary: One of our favorite characters mourns their victims. It could be of anyone's POV, but there's hints. Guess who? Please R


_Murderer,_

The voice echoed in my head. Nothing I could do or say could stop the horror. Nothing.

I wanted to die. Right then and there. I wished that I could die just like anyone else. To destroy myself in a desperate attempt to make the images stop. Maybe, possibly that could redeem my terrible deeds. I couldn't go anywhere. I didn't want to go anywhere. Nowhere where they were. So I walked.

_What did I do?_

Everything was vivid in my memory. I couldn't block it out the way that they did. I couldn't refuse to face it the way that they had. Couldn't, wouldn't.

I had fixed things, put them back the way they were. But that did not change anything. I couldn't give back the lives I had taken. I was a killer. Those poor people… they never had a chance. Not a hope of life. I already had placed myself in their positions in my mind. I could easily see through their eyes the creature, no, not a creature, it was too horrible to be a creature… that ended their lives. I could feel their horror as I struck faster than any human. Those people had families, families that they would never see again.

I cried out in my own mental agony. The stars in the night sky seemed to waver in response. Lights in nearby houses flickered on, and I rushed away, feeling even worse to have woken those people.

_Destroyer._

I had seen many things, many people. Families, friends, love. I had taken those things from people. Real, living people. I am a person too, aren't I?

No, I'm not a person. I'm something different. A human being could not kill like I had. Even the most horrible, mentally-disturbed person would never sink to such a level.

'_You just, don't think about it. It had to be done, end of story.'_

That's what they told me, when I asked them. When I had pleaded to know how they dealt with such sickness.

Well, I did think about it.

How would I ever right my wrong? Could I?

Death had always sickened me. I had always tried to prevent death, even with creatures as small as spiders and flies. I would take spiders outside, rather than squishing them. I would let misquitoes suck my blood rather than hurt them. Killing was the worst thing anyone could do. The ultimate evil. Life was such a precious thing, so beautiful, so pure. How could anyone sane take it away?

How, through any amount of torture, could anyone ruin the beauty? How could they soil that wonderful experience?

And that led me to ask, what is death? What happens when the wonder of life is ripped from your grasp? When the darkness closes on you and all you see is a single light? Do you have a choice to go to it? And what truly lies beyond? Will I ever truly know?

_What is it like?_

They will want to know. Know what it's like to know that you have that power, that horrible disgusting hold over everything that a person has known. What will I say? What will I do when they ask me why? I will tell them the truth. I will tell them that though people deem it necessary, they tell you it has to happen to win, it is a horrible feeling to be the destroyer. To be feared for everything that you are. To hate yourself, hate that you could not take back what you did, though you would take their place in death in an instant.

I felt hollow inside. As if I, myself had died, and that didn't make it any better. I didn't go home that night, though I knew it would arouse questions. Maybe someday they would understand what I felt, though I wished deeply that they would never have to see such horror.

I turned the corner of the street. There, a lone person walked. They were probably unwinding from a hard day at the office. That's what I was doing, unwinding. Though I doubted that they were feeling the same that I did.

I looked up and met the person's gaze. He nodded at me, acknowledging my presence. I looked down instantly. No, I could not meet the eyes of someone, not someone who could have known one of the ones I had killed. I imagined the agony, the anger that people would feel in the morning when they found what I had done. They wouldn't know it was me, but someone had done it.

Someone horrible. Someone with no heart, mentally or physically.

I was disgusted. More images passed through my mind. The deeds, the power to do such things. I winced, if I could have thrown up, I would have. Still, I gagged mentally.

Horror, Evil, Disgust, Anger, Power, Revulsion, Horror, Evil, Disgust, Anger, Power, Revulsion, Horror, Evil, Disgust, Anger, Power, Revulsion, Horror, Evil, Disgust, Anger, Power, Revulsion…

These words echoed over and over in my head. More images accompanied them. I would never again do it. _Never again,_ I told myself. And yet, when the time came and there was great need, there was a possibility that it would happen again.

_You are a horrible person,_ I told myself, then corrected, _No, not a person, not even a beast. You are a tool, a machine_.


End file.
